Chess
by NovelistServant
Summary: Chess is a game based off of skill, strategy, and the costs and sacrifices of war. It's a game Stanford mastered at a young age and had to play his entire life. (Cover art belongs to markmak at DeviantArt.)


Stanford placed his knight on the desired space on the antique board. Pa had gotten his hands on an really old chess game and had displayed it in the shop, so until it was sold, Stanford decided that he was going to teach Stanley how to play. The ten-year-old was certainly clever enough to understand the game if he tried, but that was it; Stanley wasn't even trying. It was like playing with a robot. His moves were so basic and unplanned. Still, Stanford had fun and watched as his brother took his crook, leaving an open pathway to his black king. Stanford moved his white queen with a little victorious click on the wooden board; he was just one move away from winning the game.

"Check."

Stanley looked up and gave his next move some thought. There was only one other space for the king to go: one space to the left, so Stanley moved the king in an attempt to win, but Stanford moved his queen over to the left one space, just five spaces up from the king.

"Check."

There was no way Stanley could win by moving the king; he'd have to take down the white queen with one move or lose. And Stanley Pines doesn't lose easily! He saw that he had a bishop that was just one space off from a perfect diagonal line from taking the queen, but it was on a dark square, not a white square. As luck would have it, Ma poked her head into the pawn shop and Stanford turned his head away from the game,

"Boys, dinner'll be ready in ten minutes." She warned.

"Be right there, Ma." Stanford called back politely, meanwhile his brother sneakily moved his bishop to the correct line.

Stanford turned around and Stanley didn't waste a second to take his turn. He moved the bishop down the diagonal line and took the queen. Stanford gasped, horrified that he didn't catch that, and held his chin to think of what to do. They could pause the game for dinner, but he didn't trust Stanley to not cheat (he was blissfully unaware that his brother already had), so Stanford knew he'd have to win right here, right now. His eye caught one last saving piece for the game, the little guy no one would think would win, and he moved his pawn.

"HA! Check!"

Stanley's jaw dropped. Stanford had his arms crossed over his chest smugly as Stanley tried to see how to save his beloved king, but every move he'd make the pawn could copy, so the king was trapped. Stanley growled under his breath and flicked his king down in surrender.

Stanford had just enough time to stand on his antique stool and do a victory-dance before they had to run upstairs for dinner.

* * *

The fourth-floor lobby of the men's dormitories at Backupsmore was nice enough, but certainly worn, seeing how it usually hosted unruly freshmen. Luckily, it still had a pair of comfy couches, a small TV, an old radio, a coffee table, and a few big tables with chairs to use as desks; it was like a standard living room, but with additional studying space crammed into the large room.

At one desk, Stanford sat across from his roommate. While others were playing in the fallen leaves like children, the polydactyl freshman was more than happy to sit in the warm lobby with his new friend. Fiddleford was a brilliant young man who was just as smart as him and had that same love for science and drive to learn. It was refreshing and as Stanford held his cleft chin in thought, he couldn't help but feel grateful that his new opponent was a bit more of a challenge than his last competitor. Finally, Stanford moved his black knight. Fiddleford also took his time to move, which Stanford didn't mind. Chess was a nice game to have if you wanted to have a conversation, but it was also just as easy to get lost in thought and not even think about communicating with your opponent. Although, Fiddleford's silence may be due to concentrating; he was a little rusty at the game, as he explained prior that his family usually favored checkers over chess.

Stanford looked out the huge window that nearly covered the wall facing the campus. The oranges, yellows, and reds that filled the air from the trees and it's dying leaves made Backupsmore feel cozy, warm, and safe. Stanford was more comfortable sitting with his friend, wearing an orange turtleneck, and playing a game than he had been in a long time. Really, he hadn't noticed it since he was comfortable, but for a few months now he had been on edge, his anxiety too high and his hours of sleep too low. Maybe it was because he had finally gotten settled on campus, maybe it was because he had time to recover from the Incident, or maybe Fall really did do that to a person, but regardless as to why, Stanford was grateful to the peaceful feeling he had on his shoulders and back. He felt like ten pounds had been lifted off of him.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Fiddleford moved. Seeing where his train of thought was leading the musician, Stanford gave a sly grin and used his pawn to steal Fiddleford's crook.

* * *

 _It seemed like he had just closed his aching eyes to try to regain some strength through the necessary action of sleep. Now he opened them again, as if he had only blinked, but he found his exhaustion gone, as well as his aches and worries. It was hard to worry in such a peaceful environment such as this._

 _Stanford smiled at seeing his Muse, his friend, Bill Cipher, sitting in a chair across from him, a game of interdimensional-chess separating them. Bill was white, he was always white (which in the game interdimensional-chess meant Bill's pieces were only a slightly lighter shade of blue than Stanford's), so he moved a pawn without even touching it and squinted his eye happily at the human he had chosen to inspire this century._

 _"Good to see you again, Fordsie!" Bill greeted._

 _"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Stanford replied politely and moved a black pawn. Then again, a few weeks would hardly compare to the hundreds - maybe even thousands - of years his Muse has been around._

 _Bill shrugged and moved another pawn, as if to say "Whatcha gonna do?" The triangle-shaped being with answers then gave the human a more thoughtful look. "Still having trouble with that Unified Theory of Weirdness, huh?"_

 _Stanford sighed before moving his crook. "Unfortunetly, yes. I still fail to see how everything is connected. All of the anomalies are different and weird in their own right that it's nearly impossible to pinpoint a commonality between them, but there must be! There must be something that connects them all, isn't there? Why else would so many anomalies be located in Gravity Falls?" He asked, looking for clarity from his Muse that he wasn't crazy, that he wasn't delusional, that he was on the right track._

 _"Whoa, easy there, Sixer." Bill said calmly. While Stanford sipped his tea (it was Camomile and his ideal perfect cup of tea; perfect amount of sweetness, perfect temperature, it was like the drink had come directly from Stanford's mind, which it probably did seeing how they were in the mindscape), the triangle went on and added, "You're not that far off. Look, you keep looking for common behavior, right? Well, what if what's common about all the weird stuff is their history?"_

 _Stanford lowered his cup back on it's saucer and let it float near his head. "What do you mean?"_

 _Bill moved his next piece on the chess board. "Well, what if I told you that what connects all the weirdness of Gravity Falls is it's origins? I mean, you've heard of the whole different-dimension-theory, Fordsie."_

 _"It's true, then?" Stanford asked, having heard of this theory via college professors and science-fiction movies. "There are multiple dimensions?" It made sense when he gave it some thought, but up until now he never had._

 _Bill laughed and held his three-sided body. "You better believe it! Hundreds of thousands of different realities that never touch! Some millions of years more advanced than your dimension, some centuries behind. Some are so different that you can't possibly even imagine it being true until you've seen it, some are only slightly different than your own. But we're not here to talk about hundreds of millions of dimensions. We're here to talk about one. One dimension that leaked into yours. One dimension that'll make your Unified Theory of Weirdness, if you can prove it."_

 _Stanford stared happily at his friend. This… there was no way he would've ever come up with this on his own! Immediately, however, his mind was spinning with fresh ideas and a new speed with excitement as fuel. This Muse had truly outdone himself this time! He truly inspired the man to do amazing things! Stanford moved another pawn to free his queen. "And how do I do that?" He asked, trying to keep his giddiness at bay._

 _Bill's eye squinted with happiness again, and he used his knight to take one of Stanford's pawns._

* * *

Ford had seen that the tours were over through the hidden cameras when the large group of people left the Shack. Good. He could go for another cup of coffee. He slowly opened the hidden door behind the vending machine and was almost oblivious to the sounds of laughter and playful bickering. Almost.

"Ha! Nice try, Mabel!"

"NO! My Fair Lady!"

Ford walked down the hall and in passing the living room for the kitchen, he found his great-niece and nephew sitting at the card-table in the living room and playing a game of chess. Mabel swiftly moved another piece and Dipper did as well, playing quickly rather than slowly and taking their time. Ford wondered if they found it more entertaining when on a time crunch. After a few quick moves, Mabel managed to move a pawn to the last row and she snatched her queen back, replacing it with her black pawn.

"In your face, Dip-Dip!" Mabel bragged.

"Okay, okay," Dipper sneered with a grin. "Let's see if your luck'll last!"

Ford shook his head with a smile as he ventured on for the caffeine he desperately needed. Just because the Unicorn Spell was active didn't mean his family was safe. Bill was still going to try to get into their world. Bill was still going to try to break the Rift. Bill was still going to haunt Ford's mind until he got what he wanted.

By the time the old scientist had passed the living room, this time with a hot mug in his six-fingered hands, Dipper knocked over Mabel's black king.

"OH! Dipper Pines remains the champion!" The boy cheered while Mabel blew a raspberry. Dipper's eye caught Ford watching and said, "Hey, Great-Uncle Ford. Wanna play a quick game of chess?"

Ford held up a hand and smiled gently. "No, thank you, Dipper. I have much research to do."

"Come on, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel insisted with a toothy grin. "It'll be fun! You and I can work together to take down Brainiac over here." She added, jabbing a thumb over at her twin as he reset the game. "You can even be white!"

Ford found it difficult not to smile. Perhaps a quick game would do him some good, give him a break from his work while exercising his mind as he rested and sipped his coffee. Besides, how can anyone deny that sweet smile?

Ford shrugged and walked into the room. "Very well, I suppose one game wouldn't hurt."

Mabel cheered and moved chairs so Grunkle Ford could sit across from his opponent. Dipper seemed shocked to find the Author of the Journals sitting to play with him, something he had been hesitant to do ever since the Probabilitor the Annoying incident, but he was no less delighted. Mabel soon ran off and told Ford to go ahead without her. He moved the first pawn up two spaces and Dipper took his turn.

Ford was pleased to find that his knowledge of chess was just as extensive as his knowledge of _Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons_. After a few moves, Mabel came back into the living room with a bowl of fresh popcorn. Dipper thanked her and popped some into his mouth as he played. Ford also snacked on the provided food and whispered with his niece of how he should move, allowing her to make most of the choices, even if it meant he would lose.

Once again, Ford was reminded how one must take joy in the simple pleasures of life.

* * *

 _It wasn't like his last dream, where it felt so real. This one was foggy, an illusion created by his own conscious and not by some unholy demon. Still, that didn't make the dream any less frightening._

 _Ford held his head with his left hand, his fingers combing his charcoal-gray hair. He bit his lip tightly, any tighter and his lip would bleed. It should be an easy choice, it should be straightforward, but sentiment over the people it would affect and fear over the consequences of his choices made him freeze._

 _Bill sat across from him, not friendly and good-naturally as he once pretended, but mensingly, his eye watching the human boringly and his hands held in front of his triangular body, his skinny black elbows on the arms of his chair. "Choose your moves wisely, Sixer." He said in a stoic tone that only mocked the human._

 _Ford swallowed to try to rid his stomach of the melancholy ache only guilt could bring, but the pain refused to go away. His hand, his six-fingered, birth-defected hand, hovered over Dipper, sentencing him to be the next pawn in Bill's game._

Ford woke up. He didn't jump up this time, but stayed down on the couch in his room. He blinked several time to clear his musty eyes before slowly sitting up. It was a little before sunrise judging by the light leaking into his room through the stained glass window.

Ford slipped on his glasses and gave a heavy sigh. That ache in his gut was still there.

* * *

Grunkle Ford breathed in the fresh pine-scented air, a nice change from the harsh salty winds. He loved the sea, and he loved traveling with his brother, but he also loved this old shack. He and Stan both agreed that while they looked forward to resume their adventure at the end of the summer, it was good to be back.

He sipped his Camomile tea gingerly as he watched the sun set on this warm, golden afternoon. The sunlight trinkled through the trees and onto the house as Ford sat on the old couch. A soft breeze ruffled his fluffy hair and kept him cool as he baked under the star his planet circled. He was getting a little drowsy, but a soft voice brought him back to Earth.

"Grunkle Ford?"

The old scientist turned his head to the door and found his thirteen-year-old niece with a board under her arm and a box in her other hand.

"Wanna play chess?" Mabel asked sweetly.

Grunkle Ford smiled. "Of course, my dear."

Mabel hurried and sat on the left-side of the couch, setting the board in the middle of the old couch and arranging the pieces. Ford took another sip from his tea and sat it by his feet before turning to face the game and play.

When Mabel was finished setting up the game, she gestured to the board and said, "You can be white."

Ford smiled in thanks and moved his pawn.


End file.
